


Best of Luck

by rain_sleet_snow



Category: Primeval
Genre: Comfort Reading, F/M, M/M, Snowed In
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-04-22
Updated: 2016-04-22
Packaged: 2018-06-03 18:56:56
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 984
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6622414
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/rain_sleet_snow/pseuds/rain_sleet_snow
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The ARC is snowed in – literally – and Lester and Lorraine are snowed under – metaphorically.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Best of Luck

**Author's Note:**

  * For [fredbassett](https://archiveofourown.org/users/fredbassett/gifts).



> Fandom stocking present for fredbassett. :)

"You look like hell," Lyle remarked, looking down at Miss Wickes, and got a half-strength poisonous glare for his trouble.

"Please go straight through, Lieutenant," Miss Wickes said coolly, shuffling the papers on her ever-immaculate desk. "If you're equally polite to Mr Lester, I confidently expect to see you coming back through here very shortly."

Lyle lingered, against his better judgement. He wondered if Lorraine was still keeping a gun in the bottom drawer of her desk, and if so, whether it was loaded and whether she could shoot straight after working thirty-six hours straight. The answer to both of these questions, he felt, was probably a solid 'no'; but she still looked exceptionally annoyed, and he knew it was never a good idea to wear on her patience.

"You know it's hell out there, don't you?" he said, as gently as possible.

"I'm aware," Lorraine said acidly, piling her things into her handbag with hands that were slower and clumsier than usual. "I can follow a forecast as well as anyone. Merry Christmas, Lieutenant. Go away."

"Happy Christmas," Lyle said, beating a brisk retreat into his partner's office, where he announced himself by saying "God, Lorraine's in a mood."

"She's probably more tired than I am," Lester retorted, scrubbing his hands over his eyes. "Remind me to arrange a substantial bonus, Jon, without her and Jenny we would be in the shit."

"Sounds basically normal," Lyle said, leaning against the edge of Lester's desk. Lester sat back in his chair, turning it so that he could angle himself towards Lyle instead of virtuously towards his computer. "Do you think you can stop for the day?"

"Probably." Lester closed his eyes. "Although technically it was the day before yesterday."

"True," Lyle agreed. His own part in the crisis had come to a halt within twenty-four hours, bloody and messy as it had been: he was well aware that the political fight had been bloodless but equally brutal, and more protracted. One of Lester's hands was still resting on the desk; he covered it with one of his own. "Crisis over?"

"Crisis deferred until after Christmas." Lester's thin, strong fingers twisted around his.

"New Year?" 

Lester emitted a bark of laughter. "We should be so lucky. But you and I will still be going skiing in January."

"Right," Lyle said, recognising a certain steel in Lester's voice.

"Well, that's one problem solved," Lester remarked, looking over Lyle's shoulder, and Lyle glanced in the same direction and saw Blade lift Miss Wickes gently to her feet and steady her. "I was wondering how to get her out of the office."

"With a crowbar and a can of WD-40,” Lyle suggested, and Lester slapped his knee lightly.

"If Blade's taking her home, she'll be fine."

Lorraine swayed against Blade, and rested against his chest for a second; the pair of them were clearly talking, but even when Lyle strained his ears he couldn't hear a word, and Lorraine was just as clearly struggling to keep her knees from buckling. 

"He probably isn't taking her home," Lyle said. "Not even Kermit would try to drive in this. It's fucking filthy outside, sleet and mush on half the roads, and nobody's gritted any of the roads yet. Most of the buses aren't running. The Tube barely is."

Lester stared at him. "What? Has anyone managed to leave?"

"Not since five o'clock. Lorraine surfaced long enough to tell nonessential staff to clear off."

Lester blinked. "I don't remember her clearing that one with me!"

"I think the relevant word there might be 'remember'." There was a slight clatter, and Lyle looked round to see that Blade had lifted Miss Wickes off her feet and into his arms. Either she had fainted or she was already asleep, because she wasn't complaining about this gross violation of professional standards of behaviour. 

"Should he be doing that with his shoulder?" Lester demanded.

"No," Lyle said. Hopefully Ditzy was still in the medical bay and hadn't seen Blade remove his sling, let alone pick up his girlfriend like that. 

"Oh well," Lester sighed, and covered his eyes with his free hand. "It's not as if I can stop either of them."

"No," Lyle repeated, rather dryly, and squeezed Lester's hand gently, still wrapped in his. 

"Have you got a plan?" Lester enquired, from behind his hand. "I assume you didn't come here to tell me we couldn't go home, and what did I propose to do about it."

"Anyone would think you thought I was stupid, cherub. I've commandeered a break-room and I called in a takeaway when I knew everything was going to shit, it's ready to reheat as soon as you're ready to eat it. Liz is still at CCF, probably shouting at her cadets and having a lot of fun, and your ex-wife called to say she's stuck in Swindon with Nicky so visitation tomorrow might not happen."

"Good God. You had a civil conversation with Kathy."

"It's a Christmas miracle," Lyle said.

This got the weary laugh he wanted from Lester. "Why was she in Swindon?"

"Not your problem," Lyle said, with some relish. "She didn't sound pleased about it."

Lester snorted. "You surprise me." He levered himself out of his chair, staggered, but managed to remain upright. "Takeaway, you said."

"Indian," Lyle said. "Palak paneer and four chapaatis and a lamb biryani for you. I'll finish it off if you can't manage."

Lester's stomach rumbled, and Lyle laughed and slung an arm around his partner's waist. "Come on," he said. "Let's get you out of here."

Lester looked up at him for a second, a sort of half-smile hovering about his mouth, and said nothing.

"What?"

"Nothing, Jon," Lester said, and there was a sort of tired warmth in his voice that called a smile to Lyle's own face. "I was just thinking that I'm a very lucky man."


End file.
